Finding a Fix
by lazermonkey
Summary: "After all, I needed something to do at 5:30 in the morning other than remember Jeanie and how I'd sold her out for a fix. Other than relive one of the worst times in my entire life. Other than remember how awful I felt about everything that had happened." Told from Hutch's point of view, this story takes place 3 months after "The Fix". Hutch struggles to cope with the aftermath.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! This is my first Starsky and Hutch story ever. This takes place 3 months after the episode "The Fix" from season 1. This is from Hutch's POV as he struggles with the aftermath of what happened. Includes potential drug use/references and violence. Please review and let me know what you think!**

**Finding a Fix**

I woke up to the sound of my alarm at 5:30 AM. I groaned and got up. I didn't have to be ready for work for hours, but I needed to run. I had been running more the last three months. After all, I needed something to do at 5:30 in the morning other than remember Jeanie and how I'd sold her out for a fix. Other than relive one of the worst times in my entire life. Other than remember how awful I felt about everything that had happened. Starsky and I had talked about it a few times, but deep down I knew I was still wasn't quite ready to let it go.

My effort to distract myself with running backfired on me though. What always happened was that I spent my whole run every day thinking over a million possible scenarios in which it never happened, or turned out completely different due to some factor or another. Somehow though, it had become my coping mechanism, an odd source of therapy. So, I ran a few miles every morning before work. Then I would get home, shower, and wait for Starsky to appear with some excuse for why he was late yet again. Then we would do our job and afterwards he would invite me out or over to his place and I would say yes. Then we would hang out and discuss nothing of importance. I wasn't drinking anymore though. I wasn't sure why, I guess I just never had the desire for a beer as of late. Besides, my liver would appreciate it if nothing else. Then I would go home, toss and turn until eventually exhaustion overtook me, then sleep a few hours until 5:30. Then my whole routine would start over the next day, just as it had this morning.

I had just finished my post-run shower when Starsky showed up. He was eating a Danish and going on about some waitress he thought might be into him.

"So anyway, Hutch, there I am the only solitary soul in the whole place willing to help her clean up the mess from the tray she dropped. Then this manager jerk says I can't help her 'cause of insurance or some nonsense. So I told him that no insurance company should stop a man from being a gentleman," he said in what seemed to be all one breath.

"I suppose you asked for her number like a gentleman after all this?" I asked.

"Of course! And I got it too!" He grinned.

"Does she have a name?" I asked. He nodded as he started going through my fridge.

"Elizabeth. She works at the bakery two blocks from the station," he replied.

"Maybe she can get you a discount on all that junk you buy there," I offered. He glared at me.

"Ah, you're just jealous because I won't be able to go out with you this weekend," he teased. I shrugged.

"Why should I care? For all you know I could have plans that don't include you this weekend," I protested.

"Because we both know you haven't been out of this house without me practically dragging ya' for the better part of 3 months," he said, not bothering to hide his worry.

"So? I'm catching up on my reading," I joked. I didn't bother trying to deny it. I never felt like going out in the evenings anymore.

"You okay, buddy? Be straight with me." The worry in his voice was stronger now. I couldn't keep lying to him, but I knew if we opened that conversation again there was no way I could handle it. I had no desire to spend anymore time crying over something I should have been done with 3 months ago. Especially not in front of him.

"I will be. I'm getting there, I am." I wasn't sure who I was trying to convince. He looked at me skeptically.

"I hope you mean that," he said.

"I do." _I think I do anyway._ I added silently. He seemed to buy it. For now.

"How come ya' never got any food in this house?" he asked, returning his attention to my well stocked fridge.

"I have food, you're looking at it."

"This? This is not food, Blondie. This is kale, carrots, broccoli and a whole lot of nothing. How am I supposed to eat a good breakfast?"

"Eat at home?" I suggested. That comment earned me a glare. "Or maybe order something else from your pretty waitress?"

"And have her think I'm a pig that does nothing but eat? I already told her the 2 extra pastries were for my partner...which was obviously a cover."

"Well, if the shoe fits..." I smirked.

"You can be a real pain, you know that? Maybe I'm glad I can't go out with you this weekend," he said.

" I don't mind, Elizabeth is probably prettier than me anyway," I teased back. That was one thing that still felt normal. In the midst of some good-natured harassment I could almost forget that anything had changed between us. I could almost forget how he had seen me at my absolute worst. Almost.

* * *

Paperwork wasn't my favorite part of the job. Starsky liked it even less than I did, which meant I had spent the entire day listening to him complain about having to do it. My only relief came when he decided to visit the vending machine. I wondered how he could possibly be hungry after three pastries, a handful of nuts from my place, a bag of pretzels, two candy bars and whatever he was on a mission to acquire now. I stifled a yawn and took another sip of my now very cold coffee. Captain Dobey's office door opened and I heard a file hit my desk.

"Hutchinson!" Dobey yelled in a tone that told me he wasn't at my desk just to say hello.

"Good morning, Captain," I said politely.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've asked you two to correct this?" he pointed at the file. I opened it and groaned. It was a report from an arrest we had made last week. Starsky had written it up originally, but he forgot an important detail or two and had a good chewing out from Dobey over it. Then it appeared on my desk five minutes after he had turned it in for the second time so I could fix his spelling and grammar mistakes in the additions.

"You and Starsky have worked in this division almost six years and you still can't properly complete a report! This needs dated correctly and signed with your legal name!" he said, emphasizing the words "correctly" and "legal". I looked at it again and noticed the month was off and that I had signed it Ken instead of Kenneth. I cringed internally at my carelessness. I had never in my nearly six years as a detective or in my years in uniform ever signed anything wrong before.

"Sorry, we'll fix it for real this time." I said. Dobey shook his head and glared at me.

"Where is that partner of yours anyway?" he demanded.

"Vending machine."

"Figures. Just see that you get it done and done right!" he ordered and went back to his office. Just then Starsky appeared with a bag of potato chips.

"Cap looks mad, what did we do this time?" he asked while opening his chips from the wrong end.

"It seems you don't know dates and I don't know my name, Starsk." I told him sliding the file over. He looked at it with disdain.

"Aw come on, really? We've re-wrote this thing how many times now? How did I mess up that date?" he scowled. "And why on Earth did ya' sign this Ken instead of Kenneth?" He was clearly frustrated.

"I don't know, maybe I thought I was signing a birthday card instead of a legal form?" I said, angry with myself for making such a stupid mistake. It seemed like I was making them constantly these days.

"We both must be out of it. I think it's all the extra paperwork lately, it's tiring stuff!" he theorized. "What we need is a break. Wanna take lunch early?"

"No, we should fix it first.," I said, wanting to get it over with.

"Stickler!"

"We can't procrastinate forever, we have to do it correctly," I responded.

"Says the guy that can't remember his own name!"

"You can't even remember the date from last week! And technically it's still my name either way! So I left out four letters, big deal! I'd still have to sign it again anyway since you messed up the date!" I shot back. I knew this argument was stupid, but I was frustrated, tired, and hungry. Starsky rolled his eyes and angrily shoved a chip into his mouth.

"Fine, you don't have to throw a tantrum about it! We'll fix it before lunch." He grabbed the typewriter and set it on his desk with a loud bang, aggravating my now splitting headache.

"Think you could be a little more annoying with that?" I grumbled.

"Hutch, if ya' quit griping at me, I might get this done faster so you can sign it with your proper, legal, full, correct name!" he said. We both let out an exasperated sigh and got back to our endless mountain of paperwork.

* * *

Hours later we were sitting in Starsky's car taking a shift on a stakeout for another detective. I still felt bad about the way I had snapped at Starsky earlier. He was acting like it never happened and was going on about Elizabeth the waitress again. I was trying to listen, but between my headache and my own thoughts I could barely focus.

"She said she's worked there for about 4 months. I can't believe I hadn't noticed her before now! She's somethin' else! Are you even listening, Hutch?" Starsky asked, turning towards me.

"Sure, Starsk. She's real cute, why didn't you notice her, all that," I replied.

"Okay wise guy, if your such a good listener, then where did I say she was from?"

"Uhh...Vermont?" I guessed blindly. _Busted._ I thought. "South Dakota?" I tried again. Starsky narrowed his eyes at me.

"Try Nevada. Man, where is your head at these days? It's like you're somewhere else half the time," he said. I sensed concern in his voice which told me this was about more than just where some girl was from. I ran my hand through my hair and sighed.

"I'm sorry, I'm just tired. I'm sorry about earlier too, I shouldn't have been so uptight," I apologized.

"Hutch, I don't care about earlier. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing. I told you, I'm just tired."

"You expect me to buy that? Is it a family thing?" he asked. I knew he meant well, but this was not the time nor the place I wanted to have a heart to heart. My head was killing me, and I wished he would just leave me alone. I didn't want to talk. There was nothing to talk about anyway.

"No, my family is fine and so am I. Why can't you just drop it? Stop interrogating me and pay attention to the job for once!" I snapped. He gave me a look of hurt, mixed with worry and anger. I looked away. I hated it when he looked at me like that. He was my partner, but I couldn't tell him what my deal was. I didn't even know what my deal was. I knew I'd been distracted lately and that I wasn't exactly the most fun to be around, but I figured it would pass eventually. I just needed to get more sleep and stop analyzing everything to death. Unfortunately, that was a lot easier said than done.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, hopefully you enjoyed it! The next chapter will have a bit more action and a whole lot of angst. Be sure to leave a review, I love reading feedback!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this so far and especially to Hutch-is-gorgeous for beta reading it for me! Leave a review and let me know what you think!**

* * *

"Hutch! You have to try this!" Starsky practically yelled as he entered the squad room the next morning. He shoved a grease soaked brown paper sack onto my desk. I raised an eyebrow and looked at it suspiciously.

"It smells terrible," I commented.

"Just try it! It's good! Elizabeth made it." He grinned and pushed it towards me. I reached in and pulled out the source of the odd, meaty, disgusting smell.

"Elizabeth made what exactly?" I asked, examining it. It appeared to be some sort of donut with chunks of...something in it. I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

"It's a double fried sausage stuffed donut! I had the idea for it on our date last night, and she actually made my vision come true this morning!" he said proudly.

"I think you should have kept that vision to yourself. It looks almost as bad as it smells." I put it back in the bag.

"Are you insulting her baking skills? How dare you!" he responded, pretending to be more offended than he was. I was in the process of thinking up a good comeback when Starsky's phone rang.

"Detective Starsky speaking!" He listened for a second and motioned for me to get on the line. I picked up the phone and heard Huggy's voice on the other end.

"I got the info on that cat named Crowder for ya'. Word is he got rid of one of his customers back east when they couldn't pay. Dude had to set an example. Rumor has it he was your dead man's dealer."

"Any idea where he hangs out, Hug?" Starsky asked , searching his desk for a pen. I handed him one of mine.

"I'm gettin' to that. Have some patience! I can do better than a hangout. I can tell you where he lives," Huggy continued. I looked up to see Dobey motioning for me to come into his office. I hung up, figuring it must be important. Starsky could handle Huggy.

"Sorry to interrupt, Hutchinson, but I just got some updates from Narco that might make a difference to your case," Dobey said. "They just picked up one of Crowder's goons. He said he heard Crowder order the hit on our victim. He said he'll testify in exchange for immunity. The DA wants Crowder bad enough they'll give it to him."

"Starsky's getting an address for Crowder right now. You want us to go pick him up?" I asked.

"From who? And yes, but don't forget to call in backup."

"Huggy got it, but don't ask me how," I answered as the door flew open to reveal Starsky with a scrap of paper in his hand.

"We got an address on Crowder!" Starsky announced, waving the paper around.

"That's what your partner was just telling me. Hutchinson can fill you in on what I just told him. Now get going!" Dobey ordered. We left his office and headed down the hall.

"I guess I can thank Huggy and Dobey for saving me from your fried monstrosity, Starsk."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, ya' turkey. Now what did Cap tell you?"

* * *

We had just parked about a block down from Crowder's address and Starsky was on the radio requesting backup. They wouldn't be here for several minutes in an attempt to not alert Crowder that he had been cornered. He was one of the biggest cocaine dealers in the city, and the department was anxious to nail him, especially with the murder charge. I silently wished for this case to be over. I was feeling especially exhausted this morning, and I was still uncomfortable with cases involving drugs of any kind. Not to mention all the extra paperwork a joint case with Narco provided. My stomach growled as a reminder that I had skipped what had become an optional part of my life recently too. I never wanted anything but coffee for breakfast, and that I only wanted for the caffeine.

"Ready, Pal?" Starsky asked, pulling me back to reality. I nodded.

"Let's go." We got out and started walking until we reached the house. It was smaller than I expected, but that was a good thing.

"You want the back, Hutch?"

"Sure, give me two minutes to get in position," I replied. I made my way down the alley, careful to avoid any windows. I drew my gun and checked my watch. _Just six more seconds, _I thought as I prepared to go in. _Five...four...three...two..._I reached for the knob, and surprisingly found it unlocked. _Pretty bad security for a drug dealer. _I entered just as I heard Starsky kick in the front door.

"Police, get your hands up!" I heard him tell someone in the living room. I threw open the bedroom door to my left to find it empty. I quickly opened the one to my right and saw Crowder trying to climb out a window. I raised my gun as he turned around. He tried to point his at me, but he was too slow.

"Don't do it, Crowder. Drop it!" I yelled. I saw he was considering trying something stupid, but then he reconsidered and dropped it. There was a young woman lying on the bed who was clearly high on something. She didn't seem to notice what was going on in front of her. Her eyes were empty, refusing to focus on anything. _Did I look like that?_ I wondered as I grabbed Crowder and shoved him against the wall. I reached for the pocket that usually held my handcuffs, but came up empty. _I can't believe this, _I thought. _What kind of cop forgets handcuffs? _I recalled seeing them on the counter this morning, but I guess I had forgotten to grab them. Now I really felt like an idiot. I looked around, looking for something to restrain him with. That's when I noticed it. My heart skipped a beat as my eyes fell on the nightstand. Heroin. I tried to force the memories away as I dragged Crowder to the living room.

"Starsky, you got extra cuffs?" My voice almost cracked as I swallowed the lump in my throat. _Get a grip, Hutchinson, _I told myself.

"Yeah, lose yours?" he teased. I shoved my prisoner towards him. Before either of us realized what was happening, Crowder pulled a knife. Starsky reacted, twisting to the right and narrowly avoiding getting stabbed. Starsky hit him hard in the jaw and snatched the knife away. I stood there in shock, unable to react. The whole thing seemed to happen in slow motion.

"I forgot to frisk him!" I blurted out in horror. Starsky cuffed him. Then he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me into the kitchen.

"What?! You forgot?!" He whispered angrily. "I coulda' been killed! Ya' can't just forget to do your job, Hutch! That ain't like you!" I hung my head. He was right. I felt beyond horrible.

"I'm s-s-sorry," I stuttered. _How could I have been so stupid?_ I cursed my own incompetence. _Some Detective you turned out to be. _I could hear sirens in the distance. Starsky finally released my shoulder and started to open the door. He turned back to me, his hand hovering on the knob.

"We'll discuss this later," he said calmly. Too calmly, considering what had just happened. I looked at him, trying to think of something to say to convey how sorry I felt. Nothing seemed good enough. Nothing ever would be.

I let out a shaky breath. I knew I had to go back and get the girl. I entered the room and found her just as she had been a few minutes ago. I sat down on the bed and tried to ignore what was on the nightstand. I reached out and took her arm, careful not to touch any of her track marks. I knew firsthand how tender they must be. She had clearly been using a long time. She was young, twenty at the most. Her light green eyes were rimmed in red and she looked like she hadn't slept in days. Despite this, she seemed strangely at peace and was almost pretty.

"Who are you?" she asked, sitting up and leaning her forehead against my shoulder.

"Detective Ken Hutchinson. Do you know what's happening?"

"A bust?" she whispered into my shoulder. I was surprised she was with it enough to answer me.

"Yeah." She pulled away and looked into my eyes. I couldn't look away.

Three months ago, I would have seen just another junkie. Someone abusing their body in an attempt to escape their mind. I would have questioned why she ever thought this was a good way to deal with things. I would feel sorry for her, but with the notion in the back of mind that she had done this to herself. I would have wished her the best, booked her, and forgotten her. But yet, here I was, staring into her eyes unable to think any of those things. Because now, I finally got it. I understood. I knew what it was like to feel so low, so lost, and so helpless that you didn't know if you could handle it anymore. I had experienced wishing it would all just end and being devastated to the point that it seeped into every area of your life. I was living it now. I also remembered what being on heroin felt like. I recalled the feeling of drifting off into sweet oblivion. I had been willing to do anything, anything at all to get it back once the drug wore off. Then the pain would come back stronger when it did. The only way to drive it away again was to get another fix. I remembered the desperation and the self-loathing that followed. I couldn't blame this girl. I wasn't so different from her.

I got up and found her jacket, helped her put it on, and led her into the living room. Starsky was talking to some uniformed officers and a couple of guys from Narco. Their voices all seemed muffled, muddied by the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

"My shoes, I need shoes," the girl requested, looking back down the hall. I went back to the room alone and quickly spotted them by the closet. I also noticed her syringe and the bag of H lying next to it. I stopped and stared at it for a long moment. My mind was racing, replaying what had happened three months ago. I remembered Starsky almost getting stabbed because of me. _Why am I so messed up? _I thought.I knew it was probably, no, definitely one of the stupidest decisions of my life, but I did it anyway. _After all, what's one more regret on my never-ending list? _I picked up the heroin and the syringe and tucked them both into my jacket pocket.

* * *

I spent the rest of the day doing paperwork and probably making a million mistakes I would be yelled at for later. Starsky was quiet and kept looking at me with concern. He didn't know what I had done, but I could tell he wanted to talk. He could sense that I wasn't ready though, and he didn't push me. I appreciated that. He was a better partner than I deserved. I distractedly counted down the minutes until quitting time, willing this day to end.

That night when I got home, I felt sick. I took the contents of my jacket pocket and shoved them into a bathroom drawer, wanting to forget that I'd taken them. I knew I should have walked away. I should have left them there. I was well aware that removing evidence from a crime scene was illegal, but it was too late now. I had crossed the line and there was no way to go back. Today had been one bad decision after another. _What was I planning on doing with the stuff anyway? _I thought. _Shoot up and put myself right back where I was? No, that's a least one stupid decision I won't be making. _I fixed myself some leftover stew for dinner and ate a few bites that promptly came right back up. I threw myself down on my bed and wondered if and when I'd ever feel good again. What was worse was that I knew this whole thing was my fault. I had dug this hole so deep I couldn't remember what daylight looked like. I had messed up so bad I didn't know if I should even try to redeem myself. What was the point? I knew this day would remain in my memory forever, even if I could manage to do my job. Even if I could feel normal again and even if Starsky forgave me, I couldn't forget. I curled up into a ball and tried not to cry. I knew I would never forgive myself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all the reviews so far, I'm glad some of you are enjoying this story! Any predictions for what will happen next?**

* * *

I groaned into my pillow and tried to ignore my blaring alarm. It was 5:30 AM again and the last thing I wanted to do was get up and run. As I dragged myself out of bed, I remembered what had happened the day before. _Whoever said that problems always seemed better in the morning was full of baloney, _I thought as I fumbled with my sneakers. _Can't even untie my own shoelaces anymore. Why must everything be so stinking complicated? _I knew I was probably being dramatic, but I didn't care. It was too early, and I was too upset with myself. I ran until my legs were numb and then ran some more.

Four and a half miles and one cold shower later, Starsky showed up. I couldn't look him in the eye. He seemed to be his usual self, acting as though this was just a regular Thursday and that he hadn't almost gotten stabbed because of my idiocy. Starsky puzzled me sometimes. I gathered my things, overly focused on not forgetting anything this time.

_Cuffs,watch,wallet,keys,gun,notebook,pencil...what else?_

"So how about it, Hutch?" Starsky's voice interrupted my mental checklist.

"Huh?"

"You and me. Elizabeth and her roommate. Dinner and a movie. And perhaps a walk on the beach afterwards?" he asked with a grin. I didn't understand it. I had almost put him in the hospital and here he was, asking me along on a double date. I shook my head.

"No, not tonight."

"Aw come on! Why not? You got plans or something?"

"I need to do laundry." It was a lame excuse and I knew it, but I had already used all the others I could think of. He shot me a look that told me he thought it was lame too.

"Hutch, your laundry can wait. It'll be fun! Did I mention she's a blond? And pretty! Elizabeth said she's a real bookworm too. You'd get along great!"

"I don't think so, Starsk," I replied, hoping he'd give up. Giving up wasn't in Starsky's nature though.

"Her name is Sara." He had a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Maybe some other night," I said, trying to let him down easy.

"I could ask her to wear plaid?" he offered as a last attempt. I couldn't help but chuckle at that one.

"As tempting as that sounds, my answer is still no." I would have said yes if things were different. I wished I could go on a date with a beautiful girl and only think about her. I wanted to go have a good time and pretend like I hadn't failed everything and everyone that was important to me. However, I knew I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to the girl. She didn't deserve to be nothing more than a distraction or ignored because I was too preoccupied with my own troubles.

"Alrighty then, suit yourself. I hope you have the most wonderful and exciting evening with your gym socks and corduroys," Starsky replied.

"Are we going to go? We do have to work today, you know."

"Don't you want to make one of your crazy breakfast things first?"

"No. We don't really have time. We're late already."

I could feel another headache starting. _Great. Just what I need._ Today was already starting to go downhill.

* * *

A few hours later, we were at Huggy's getting information on something. I wasn't paying enough attention to know what it was about though. I'd let Starsky do all the talking today. I hadn't contributed anything on this investigation. Not that I would have had much to contribute anyway. That required listening. I took another sip of water and wondered how much longer I could keep this up. What good was I going to be as a silent partner?

"You alive over there, Hutch?" Huggy asked.

"What? Sure, Huggy."

"You're too quiet."

"Starsk talks enough for the both of us," I replied.

"That's a fact!" Huggy said, chuckling. We both earned a glare from Starsky. I was glad the attention had shifted away from me.

* * *

Back in the car, Starsky was humming a tune as I stared out the window. _ I can't expect to do this job if I can't even focus for five seconds. Starsky doesn't need a useless partner, _I thought. _What if next time I forget something __and__ it doesn't end well? It's unacceptable. __I've been kidding myself…_

"Huggy's right. You are quiet. Too quiet." Starsky said, breaking the silence.

"I didn't sleep well last night," I admitted. It was partially true.

"That all? You sure it's not because of what happened yesterday?"

"Starsky, I said I was sorry. I don't think we need to discuss it."

"I don't want an apology. I lived. Didn't even get a scratch. All is well that ends well, right?" He looked over at me. I returned my gaze to the window. He sighed. "I shouldn't have went off on ya' like I did. I'm sorry. Now will you stop beating yourself up over it?"

"I told you I don't wanna talk about it." _How can he be okay with this? Why is he apologizing to me? __No, I will not stop beating myself up over it! It's inexcusable!_

"You never wanna talk at all," he mumbled.

"Well, soon enough you won't have to put up with me. I'll quit and then you can request a chatty partner that won't put your life in danger!" I shot back without thinking. Starsky looked hurt.

"You don't mean that, Hutch. You're just spooked 'cause of what went down with Crowder. It doesn't make you a bad-"

"Stop." I hated it when he downplayed things like this. He was trying to make me feel better when I had every reason to feel lousy. He wasn't being fair to himself. We hardly spoke to one another the rest of the day until he dropped me off at home that evening.

* * *

"You sure you don't want to come tonight? We're going to that place that has all that healthy stuff you like," Starsky asked as he pulled into my driveway.

"No, I'm not really hungry anyway. See you tomorrow." I started to open the car door.

"Not hungry? You've barely eaten anything all day." He was starting to sound like my mother.

"Not everyone is a bottomless pit like you, Starsk." I got out and walked into my house. I heard the sound of Starsky's engine fade as he drove off. I felt bad about rejecting his invitation, but I knew I was nowhere near ready to put myself in a situation like that.

I emptied my pockets onto the counter and sat down at the kitchen table. I wondered how I was going to kill a few hours before I could justify going to bed. I thought about cooking, but that was more work than I wanted to do right now. I tried to read, but I couldn't finish a paragraph without getting distracted. I laid my book on the coffee table and took a deep breath.

_Will I ever get over this? What even is this? __Is it even possible? Do I even want to? _My thoughts were spiraling out of control and this time I didn't bother to fight it. _I can't be a cop like this. I'm no use to anyone. I'm not even a decent friend. __Why do I keep lying to myself? I have to quit, there's no way I'm going to put people in danger like that, not again. Maybe I could go back to school for something where it won't matter if I mess up. __Something where running into drugs isn't a po__s__s__ibility. __I could move too, start fresh. Maybe go back home for awhile? _

The idea of leaving Bay City had seemed impossible a few months ago. Most of my adult life had been here. But now, it didn't seem so out there anymore. Without my job, there was nothing tying me down. I had seen a lot of ugliness in this city, images that would be burned into my mind forever. There were places I couldn't drive past without thinking about what horrendous actions had taken place there. The things I had seen human beings do to one another, the things they had done to me, it was too much. I wanted out. Regardless, I knew that whatever I did, wherever I went, I would never outrun the memories. This would be the place they had occurred, but not the place they would stay. There was no out. I was stuck.

I got up and headed for the shower. I knew if I didn't occupy myself somehow, my thoughts would take me down a road I couldn't come back from. I stepped under the water and wished that I could feel normal. It had been so long I hardly remembered what that had felt like. It was hard to believe that I was ever happy. Everything I used to take joy in now seemed empty and meaningless. I wanted to go back to how it had been before. No kidnapping, no heroin, no betrayal. I still felt guilty. Not to mention everything that had happened since.

_Why am I such a failure? _I questioned myself as I stepped out of the shower. I put on my pajama pants and looked in the mirror. I looked terrible. My eyes traveled over my bare torso, noticing for the first time how much more visible my ribs had become. _Probably all the running._ My gaze fell on the crook of my left elbow. The marks had faded considerably, but I could still see the faint outlines beneath my skin. I hadn't worn short sleeves in months and I had avoided looking at them whenever I had to change. Now, I stared at them. I remembered how the needle had felt going in, how panicked I had been the first time it had, and how much easier it got each time after that. I missed that release now. I craved the euphoric sense of freedom and longed to float away to a place in my head where the suffering was bearable. I wanted, no needed to, escape.

I hungered for the way everything had seemed so distant that it hadn't mattered to me anymore. My hands shook as I ran my fingers over my track marks. _I could feel that way again. __I have an out._The thought had come, and I was too weak to push it away, back to the dark corner of my mind from where it had been lurking. My craving was incredibly intense. The pain was too agonizing. Too real. Too raw.

I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a spoon along with a lighter. I knew the implications of what I was about to do. I went back to the bathroom and took out what I had hidden away in shame yesterday. I looked at the familiar objects as I began the process. I measured the H, heated it, and filled the syringe. It was all too easy. I tied the tourniquet around my arm as tight as I could. I was still shaking. _No going back. __now__. _I inhaled deeply and positioned the needle over my vein. Part of me was screaming at myself to stop, but another part whispered that I should just give in. I was right, there was no going back. I closed my eyes and wondered how I had let things get to this point.. Here I was, about to go through with something I had sworn I would never do. Only yesterday I had written it off as beyond me, as crossing the line, as something drastic. It wasn't like that now though. I wanted to do it. I wanted to push the needle in and feel the heroin working its magic. I looked at my face in the mirror and swallowed hard. My finger was on the plunger, the only thing between me and becoming what I had once feared. All I had to do was insert the needle. _I can't do this, _I thought as I looked down at my trembling fingers. _What would my family say? How would they feel with a junkie for a son? A brother? How could I ever explain myself to them? To Starsky? _

I pulled the needle away and laid the syringe back on the counter. I sank down against the cabinets with my head in my hands. I was ashamed that I had almost gone through with it. I had lost the will to pretend like I was in control. _I'm beat. I've lost everything. I'm worthless. Why can't I just die? _Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by the guilt of what I had done. I reached up to the counter, grabbed the first thing my hand found and threw it across the room. I watched the spoon clatter against the wall and fall to the floor. I didn't bother trying to stop the tears that were running down my cheeks. The bathroom felt claustrophobic now. I picked my shirt up off the floor and pulled it on before exiting the room. I laid down on the couch and pondered how I had let things spiral so far out of control. _When did I decide my dignity was expendable? _I felt lower than dirt. I hated myself now more than ever. It didn't matter that I hadn't injected the junk. I had the desire, and that was enough to make me feel like the worthless piece of garbage I was. I laid there wallowing in my own misery. I wouldn't allow myself the luxury of self-pity. I deserved this. All the blame was mine. _You've got yourself into a real fix here. _I almost laughed at the irony.

What seemed like hours later, I heard a familiar engine outside. I glanced at the clock. It was ten after midnight. _What is he doing here? _I wondered as I wiped my eyes and turned on the TV. _Game face, _I told myself. I heard muffled whistling followed by my door opening. Starsky's voice seemed to fill the whole cottage.

"Hey, buddy!" he said cheerfully as he entered the room carrying a bag of something.

"I should have locked that door," I muttered.

"I know where you keep your extra key, Hutch. If I want to come over, I'll come over!"

"Do you have any idea what time it is? Go home, Starsky." I wasn't in the mood to chat. I wasn't in the mood to see him at all. He ignored me and made his way into the kitchen.

"I brought you some leftovers from dinner tonight," he called as he banged around looking for a spot to put them.

"And you couldn't bring them over tomorrow?"

"Hey, your lights were on. I knew you were still up. Besides, I had to pass by here on my way home anyhow. The date was great too. Thanks for asking!" He walked back into the room and looked at me. I wondered if he could tell I'd been crying. I hoped not.

"I want to go to bed." _Take the hint. Please take the hint._

"Mind if I use the john first? I haven't been since before I picked up Elizabeth. Would you guess that she was working on a master's degree?" I closed my eyes as Starsky rambled on, hoping he would hurry up. I heard the bathroom door open.

"It was a great evening. You really need to join us someti-" He stopped abruptly. He had found the heroin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry I took so long to post this! I wanted to make sure it was as good as possible. This is probably the second to last chapter. Please remember to leave a review and let me know what you think!**

* * *

"Are you using?" Starsky's tone was unreadable. I turned off the TV and looked at the floor. "Answer me!"

I shook my head. _What do I say? _

"No," I whispered, still studying the floor. My mind was working overtime to try and come up with a way to get me out of here. I came up short.

"Quit lying to me!" he yelled suddenly, making me jump.

"I'm not!" I could feel my heart racing. He snorted, not buying it.

"That's hogwash and you know it! The evidence is all over your bathroom!" He was yelling louder now.

"It's not what it looks li-"

"Oh really? You mean you just keep the junk around as a decoration? Or maybe you're gonna tell me it ain't yours?" Starsky was livid. I had never seen him like this, and certainly not directed at me.

"It's not what you think." _Isn't it exactly what he thinks, though? Does it really make any difference?_

"Just what am I supposed to think, huh Hutch?" His face was red with rage.

"I d-d-don't know!" I sounded like a toddler. _It's official. I want to die, _I thought, hoping this was all a nightmare I would wake up from. It wasn't.

"Cut the crap, Ken!" he demanded. He almost never called me that. I knew he was serious. Dead serious. I was unable to form a response. His eyes seemed almost black. "Well?" I knew I was cornered.

"It's the truth, I swear!"

"You shouldn't have to!" he shot back. His words stung. He was right. I shouldn't have to make him believe me, but I'd lost his trust.

"I'm sorry." I hung my head. I felt him sit down on the other side of the couch.

"Why? Why would you do that?" He wasn't yelling anymore, but I could still hear the anger coming through.

"I don't know! Just go away!" I was the one yelling now. I was furious he would assume I was using. _I__s that what he thinks of me? _I was even more furious with myself for almost making him right. _How am I so __incredibly __stupid? _

"I think you owe me an explanation at least."

"Just leave! I don't want to talk about it!"

"If you don't," he paused and took a deep breath, "Then I have to report this to the department." My head snapped up to look him in the eye. It was my turn to be livid.

"You're really going to threaten me? Are you serious? Why would you do that?" I could feel tears starting to form. I choked them back. _How could he? He doesn't understand. He wouldn't…would he?_

"I don't want to, but I can't take this anymore!" he yelled.

"Oh, that's great! You can't take it anymore!" I shoved my finger in his face. _I'm over here __barely hanging on__ and his life is hard! What a joke!_

"Come on, Hutch, that's no-" He started to stand up, but I shoved him back down on to the couch.

"No! Maybe you should explain to me why you can't take it anymore! Last I checked, things were going pretty great for you!" He had everything I didn't right now. I hadn't thought about it until the words left my mouth, but I resented that. I envied his ability to move on so quickly. He never seemed to get stuck on things like I did. I sat down and glared at him.

"You think it's easy to watch you like this?" he almost whispered.

"You're not the one with the drug addiction! You're not the one that has to crave the junk every single day for the rest of your life!" I screamed, jumping to my feet. I could feel hot, angry tears streaming down my face. I hated the fact that I was crying in front of him. It was embarrassing. I turned away.

"I want to help you! I didn't spend those two days above Huggy's just to watch you throw it all away!" he yelled. I thought I heard a hint of pleading in his voice.

"Shut up! You don't get it!" I screamed back. _You never will! How could you?_

"Not if you don't talk to me!"

"Did it ever occur to you that not everyone needs to spill their guts in some kind of emotional heart to heart? Can't you see I don't want you here? Go home or go report me! See if I care!" I shouted, not even bothering to contain my rage. I didn't care anymore. I needed him gone.

"I care about you." I could hear the hurt in his voice. I felt guilty for screaming at him, but I was too worked up to stop.

"Well you shouldn't! I'm quitting regardless of if you report me or not! After that you won't ever see me again! I won't be your problem anymore! Then you can bore somebody else with all of your nonsense!" I knew my words would hurt him, but I said them anyway. I hoped he would get mad enough to leave. I wanted to be alone. I threw myself back down on the couch and buried my head in the armrest. G_o away, Starsky! _I tried in vain to stop more tears from falling. There was a long moment of silence from the other end of the couch.

"I'm worried about you, buddy. You know you haven't been yourself lately," he said quietly. I could tell he was struggling to keep his voice steady. He was concerned.

Despite my outbursts, he was still here. Despite everything. _Am I being too cold? _I tried my hardest to ignore the thought. I wanted to stay bitter and hateful. It was easier that way.

"Yeah." I wanted to say more, but I couldn't find the words. I knew there was no point in fighting him anymore. I had to stop denying it. It was clear he wasn't leaving.

"I know you're not all right, Hutch. I also know that it's not just the heroin." He was on to me despite my best efforts to hide it. He knew something was off. Starsky wasn't stupid. He wasn't blind either.

"What tipped you off?" I turned my head so I could stare at the coffee table. My anger had faded into bitter defeat. There was no reason to deny it anymore.

"You look exhausted, you barely eat, and you don't concentrate on anything very well. At first I thought maybe I was just imaging it, but then things just kept stacking up. Like how you never want to go out anymore or how you've been disinterested in everything. Even Dobey noticed. He called me at home the other night to ask if I knew what was up with you. I mean, I thought tonight's offer was pretty tempting, but you turned it down flat. I couldn't help but be nervous that something was really wrong. So, I decided to check up on you and use the leftovers as an excuse to come over and..." he trailed off.

"And here we are," I finished the thought for him. I turned to face him. We shared another long moment of silence.

"What happened?" he asked.

I looked back to the coffee table and sighed. _Here goes nothing. Where do I even start?_

"I t-took the horse from the girl. The one at Crowder's. I have no idea why, I d-don't think I intended to use it. But then...tonight happened." I stared down at my trembling fingers. I couldn't figure out how to say what I was thinking. I wasn't even sure what I was thinking exactly.

"Why?" There was no hint of accusation in the question this time. I thought hard about how to answer it.

"I felt desperate. I nearly did it. I had the n-needle over the v-v-vein..." I closed my eyes tight and tried to stop myself from breaking down again. I felt even more ashamed admitting it out loud. I waited for him to lay into me as I dragged my hands over my face and rested my head in my hands. I waited for him to tell me that the drug would have only been a temporary fix. That I should have turned it in. That nothing I was feeling was bad enough to warrant my actions. Instead, I felt his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him, puzzled. He was focused intently on me, staring into my eyes, waiting for me to continue. I opened my mouth to do so, but nothing came out. I pulled my gaze away from his.

"But you didn't. Right?" He squeezed my shoulder. I nodded, not trusting my voice. "I bet that took some courage." I looked back at him, once again confused.

"What?" I mumbled, trying to piece together his logic.

"You got that far and told yourself no. That wasn't easy. Took guts."

"Oh." I wished I had something more intellectual to respond with, but I was still trying to figure out how I felt about this conversation. I wanted to be alone, but some piece of me also wanted to open up to him.

"You must be going through something tough, pal." His hand hadn't left my shoulder. I took a deep breath and tried to find a way to express what had been going on.

"I've just been feeling so sickeningly awful lately. I d-didn't know what else to do about it. I thought I could get away from everything. It's been horrible ever since what h-happened with Forest." I managed to get out. _Why do I have to stutter? _

"I had no idea you felt like that. Why didn't you come talk to me?" Starsky asked, his voice shaking.

"Sharing doesn't come easy to me, Starsk. I didn't think it was worth bothering you with. It's hard to explain. I find it easier not to talk about things."

"So I've noticed." He smirked, lightening the mood a bit.

"Maybe it's unhealthy, or denial, but I usually sort of forget and move on. I don't know why it's different this time. I guess that's why I'm h-hurting so bad. I feel like I should be able to let it go. I want to, I know I have to, but I'm frustrated because I can't. Logic says it's over, it's done. It was months ago. I should have moved on by now. It's just ridiculous for me to keep dwelling on it! It doesn't make any sense!"

But I still felt it. Intensely. I hadn't intended the monologue, but after the first sentence the rest came spilling out before I could stop it. I wanted to make him understand so that he could tell me I was being unreasonable. I wanted him to confirm that I had no reason to hang on to the memories, regrets, or the guilt. _Why can't I let it go? _I asked myself for the one millionth time since the whole thing started. I remembered what I had told Jeanie. _If we're gonna end it, let's end it._ Why couldn't I do that now? Why couldn't I end this like we had ended our relationship? Starsky interrupted my thoughts as he broke the silence.

"You know something, Hutch? You don't have to justify your feelings to yourself in order to feel them."

The meaning of his words cut me like a knife to the heart. It was a simple statement, but to me it seemed profound somehow. It summed up how I had been thinking about things for the past three months. Maybe even longer. I knew he was probably right, but I wasn't sure what to do about it.

"What else?" Starsky asked. He knew me too well. He knew there was more.

"Like you said, I can't focus. I keep messing up over and over. What kind of cop can't handle a simple bust? Some little bag of drugs makes me lose my head." I swallowed hard. The guilt was killing me.

"Considering what happened, no one can blame you."

"You almost ended up in the ER!"

"So? I've been worse places," he said, grinning.

"That's not the point, Starsky! No one can consider anything because as far as the department is concerned, I only got beat up by Forest and missed a few days of work due to the stomach flu. Besides, there's no excuse for that kind of carelessness, no matter what happened!"

"Okay, fine. I get that. But why all the running, skipping meals and not sleeping? Usually you're Mr. Healthy." I smiled slightly at the nickname.

"I don't know. I like to make myself miserable I guess?" I was frustrated with myself for not having the answers. Starsky scooted closer and laid his hand on my forearm. I went back to staring at the floor.

"I think it's more than that, Hutch."

"It's like I feel..." I paused, searching for the word. "Contaminated. Filthy. Like I want to p-purge my body of the drug or something. I know it left my system a long time ago b-but..." _Come on, quit stuttering and pull yourself togethe__r!_I let out a shaky breath. Starsky's hand went back to my shoulder. I took a second before continuing. "You're right. It's not just the dope. It's me. I'm the problem."

"That's not true, Hutch."

"Yes it is! The smack was just the final straw. I fail at everything that matters!"

"I don't think you mean that," Starsky said. It seemed like an exaggeration to him, but I felt it was true. The common theme of my life was failure.

"I do! I'm not as good of a detective as I should be by now. I should have worked harder at the academy. I haven't checked up on Kiko very often either, even before Forest. He probably thinks I don't care anymore. Oh, and did I mention I haven't called my own mother in probably five months? She's been so worried she got my sister to write me to ask if I was dead or something. I'm a jerk!"

"Nobody's perfect," he replied. I ignored his platitude and continued my rant.

"I can't do anything right! And look at what I did to Jeanie! I got involved with her knowing she wasn't the one, but I led her on anyway! And you wanna know why? Because it was fun! Because I was lonely. Because I convinced myself my doubts wouldn't matter if I kept pretending long enough. What kind of person does that?" I threw a pillow on the floor in frustration. I hated myself. Jeanie wasn't a bad person. I had liked her a lot. I still did. But I didn't love her. Not like I should have anyway.

"Still, that's not your whole life. A few bad choices doesn't make you a bad guy, Hutch."

"But it's not just a few! It's a pattern! Every single relationship I've ever had I've ruined! Romantic or not. I couldn't even stay married! And Vanessa..." I couldn't finish the sentence. Thinking about our divorce still hurt too much. It always would. I was unable to stop the tears this time. Starsky rubbed my shoulder.

"Hey, don't play that game," Starsky whispered. "Don't do that to yourself. It ain't fair."

"Stop trying to make me feel better, Starsky. I'm sick of letting everybody down all the time. Of disappointing myself. I just want to be done."

"You want to be done? What do you mean by that?" he asked, turning me to look him in the face. His eyes searched mine anxiously.

I wasn't sure what I meant by that. _Do I want to die? Is that what I meant? No...of course not. But... I can't think like that. No. Don't go there, Ken. __Stop it! _I avoided looking at Starsky for a long minute. I had no idea what to say. I was terrified of the answer.

"I don't know...I'm n-n-not sure," I managed to whisper. He released my shoulders and sank back into the couch, considering what I had said. I waited nervously for him to say something. I kicked the pillow I had thrown on the floor earlier towards me and picked it up. I fiddled with a loose thread on one of the seams. _What is he going to say? _The wait was unbearably uncomfortable.

"I feel awful for not helping you through all this," he finally said. "I didn't notice how serious it was soon enough. I'm really sorry, buddy." He sounded like he was about to cry. My chest ached.

"You did help me! There's no way I would have survived if you'd left me in that alley." It was true. I owed him my life. Whatever that was worth.

"I meant after all that. I told myself you wanted space, but I should have trusted my instincts and butted in anyway."

"You barged in here tonight. I sure didn't invite you." I nudged his knee with mine. He looked over at me and grinned through the tears that were forming in his dark blue eyes. I hoped they wouldn't fall. If Starsky cried, I would never be able to keep it together.

"Well, you needed my leftovers. I even ordered that stupid, soy-based, mystery, excuse for meat ya' like. Just for you," he told me.

_Typical Starsky. Making fun of my food choices in the middle of an emotional breakdown. _

"Thanks, buddy. Sorry I'm such a mess. I wish I didn't get so stinking upset about things. I'm just no good at compartmentalizing." I felt poorly that I'd dragged him down into the dumps with me.

"Not that I'm condoning your eternal guilt trips, but I think your convictions are what make you a great person. And a great cop. And my friend." He smiled and put his arm across my shoulders.

"I still w-wish it were easier. I'm so lost, Starsk. I don't k-know what to do," I stuttered.

I shook as the next batch of tears began to flow. I felt Starsky pull me closer into a hug. I didn't return it, but I didn't pull away either. I remembered the last time we had been like this. Except this time, I felt worse. There was no real physical discomfort to distract me from the wave of pain that was threatening to drown me. I could hear his heart beating as I sobbed into his shirt like a baby. After a few minutes, I realized he was shaking too. I pulled away enough to see his face. Tears silently ran down his cheeks. He tried to compose himself.

"Come here, Blintz," he ordered, clearly trying to force himself to sound normal. I could tell he hadn't intended for me to notice. He pulled me back into his arms.

I reached for him, returning the embrace this time. I didn't deserve a friend like him. I had treated him worse than dirt and yet here he was, on my couch in the middle of the night, crying over me. With me. Feeling my pain. I'd never met anyone like him before. For the first time in three months, I didn't feel utterly alone. I was still a wreck mentally and emotionally. I still didn't know if things could ever be normal again. I still had the overwhelming sense of everything crashing down on me at once. Maybe it would get better. Maybe it wouldn't, but I couldn't think about that now. It didn't matter at the moment. I closed my eyes and hugged Starsky tighter. I wasn't crying anymore, but I craved the contact anyway. Starsky would never admit it in a million years, but I suspected he did too.

_He's been worried about me. If the situation were reversed, I'd be concerned about him too. I shouldn't have brushed him off all those times. He was just trying to help! I'__ve been__ such a lousy friend! _I felt him wrap the blanket that had been lying on the back of the couch around me. _Oh Starsky, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._ I wanted to tell him, to say it out loud. I wanted him to know that nothing was his fault. I wanted to take back all the horrible things I had screamed in his face. I wished I had thanked him after those 48 hours at Huggy's. I wanted to tell him so many things, but I held my tongue. Now wasn't the time. We had both calmed down, but he wasn't quite ready to let go. Neither was I.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here we are, the final chapter! I'm so sorry it took so long to get this up. I want to thank each and every one of you for reading my first ever Starsky and Hutch story. Huge thanks to Hutch-is-gorgeous for being an awesome beta reader and catching all of my mistakes. Please leave a review and let me know what you think, or let me know what you'd like to see in the future. Enjoy!**

* * *

I rolled over on the couch and pulled the blanket tighter around me. I slowly opened my eyes to see the morning light streaming through the curtains. I glanced at the clock. _11:36. Great. I'm only __about three and half hours late __for work__. Dobey will love that. _I could smell fresh coffee. _Starsky. _It took me a second to remember why he was here. To remember last night. To remember what I had done. I vaguely recalled being in and out when he'd tucked another blanket around me and left the couch for the night.

I had slept solidly for the first time in ages. I wasn't sure if it was because I had dumped all my feelings out into the open last night, or if I was just plain too exhausted to fight sleep anymore. I was still tired, but I felt a little better than I did most mornings. At least physically anyway. Mentally I was still a mess. A mess Starsky was now aware of. I somewhat regretted letting him in on what had been going on. I knew he'd been concerned before. _Will he still care? Now that he knows what I did?_

I was embarrassed he had seen me so vulnerable. _It's not the first time he's seen you like that, __dummy. _I tried not to think about it, but it was useless. He'd witnessed me above Huggy's. He'd been there when I was coming off my high and when I'd crashed hard into my low. Every brutal, humiliating moment was etched into my mind. It was in his too. I hated that those awful moments were now part of his perception of me. He'd heard my screams and my angry tirades, followed by my pitiful crying and pleading. He'd felt my sweat as well as my shivers. Starsky had cleaned up my vomit and held me as I retched when nothing would come up anymore. If only he hadn't shown up last night. If only he hadn't gone into my bathroom. If only I wasn't so incapable of fixing myself. But all the "if onlys" in the world wouldn't change a thing. My insecurities, my fears, my faults, they were all exposed, no matter how much I wanted to take it back and hide them away again.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of bacon sizzling, followed by Starsky cursing under his breath. I yawned and forced myself off the couch. I had to face him sometime. I wrapped one of the blankets around my shoulders and went to the kitchen. Starsky was running his thumb under the tap, a pained expression on his face. He glanced up at me with a smile.

"Good morning, sleepy head! I was wondering if you were ever gonna get up," he said cheerily. He winced as he bumped his thumb on the side of the counter. I felt a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. I was glad he seemed like normal Starsky again.

"I had to, Gordo. It sounded like you needed some adult supervision in here. Burn yourself?" I replied.

"Your bacon pan is too small! I tried to lay it in there and practically lost my fingerprint!" he complained, holding up his thumb for inspection. I brushed past him and carefully tore a leaf off my aloe vera plant.

"Here, put this on it. It just might save you from having to get it amputated." I was amused by his usual theatrics. It was a welcome change in tone from our last conversation.

"Thanks. You got a plant for everything in your jungle, don't ya'? Here I was, trying to make you a good breakfast! Then your stupid bacon pan was too tiny and you end up being the hero!" Starsky grumbled, exaggerating his frustration.

"There's nothing wrong with my skillet, Starsk. Also, I hate to crush your dreams, but I don't eat bacon."

"You do today! I burned myself to make it for you, the least you can do is eat it," he replied. I peered into the skillet skeptically as Starsky rummaged around in a drawer, muttering something about tongs.

"Your thumb won't be the only thing that's burned if you don't take that off the stove," I teased.

"Sit down and shut up!" he ordered, gesturing towards the table with the tongs. I obeyed, stopping for a cup of coffee on the way.

"Dobey is going to kill us," I said as I stared into the dark liquid.

"Way ahead of ya', buddy. I called us in sick early this morning," Starsky explained, setting down a plate of bacon, eggs with cheese, and toast down in front of me.

"He bought that excuse?" I poked at my eggs.

"No, but he gave us the day off anyway," Starsky replied, plopping down across from me. He grinned, obviously proud of his accomplishment.

"I bet you anything we hear about it tomorrow. We'll probably even get extra paperwork."

"Can't you just enjoy your surprise day off and home cooked breakfast like a normal person?" Starsky asked, shoveling a huge bite of eggs into his mouth.

"It's burnt." I couldn't resist the opportunity to annoy him. He frowned at me as he finished chewing.

"Now Hutch, I know I'm no Martha Stewart, but you have to give me some credit! I went to the store, cooked all this up and injured myself in the process. All before you even woke up!"

"I said it was burnt, not inedible." I took a bite to prove my sincerity. Starsky watched me for a minute before he went back to eating his own meal. I had to admit it was nice to eat something for breakfast, even if Starsky's cooking skills needed improvement.

"No wonder you haven't been sleeping well lately. I had to sleep in the strangest position last night to avoid the springs poking out of your mattress," Starsky commented as he helped himself to seconds on everything.

"Would you rather have taken the couch? I could have moved."

"Nah, you looked too comfortable. Besides, I thought your bed wouldn't be ready for the dump."

"Guess I should start looking to replace it."

"Unless you don't want any overnight company ever again," he joked. His remark reminded me once again of why he was here. I stared at the last bite of eggs on my plate. Suddenly, I wasn't hungry anymore.

"Starsky...about last night..." I paused, thinking about what I should say. Nothing seemed adequate. _How do you apologize for something like this? How do I say I'm sorry? _

"You don't have to-"

"No, I do," I interrupted. "I'm sorry. For everything." I waited for him to say something as I pushed the eggs around my plate. I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze.

"I know, babe. It's all right." I looked at him across the table. He was grinning slightly, studying me with a hopeful look on his face. I gave him a small smile in return.

"Thanks, Starsk," I whispered. I'd promised myself I wouldn't cry again, but Starsky was making that a difficult promise to keep. _Come on, Hutchinson, pull it together, _I ordered myself.

"Partners, remember? Now quit playin' with your eggs and eat 'em already." I appreciated him ending the conversation before I had the chance to get emotional again. I finished my eggs as he started on the dishes.

After breakfast, I walked into the bathroom. The first thing I noticed was that the heroin was gone. So was the syringe and the spoon I'd thrown across the room last night. I figured Starsky must have dealt with it. _How'd he get rid of it? _I wondered. I would never find out though. I never did ask him.

* * *

A week later, we got the call. The one I had been dreading for months. We were en route to a heroin bust. It felt like some sort of cruel joke. Just when I had barely started to do better with everything, this had to happen. _Why out of all the department's detectives does it have to be us?_ _And why heroin specifically? _I wondered as Starsky drove. _Couldn't Narco find somebody else for backup? _I hoped the tip was wrong. I hoped we wouldn't find anything. _Please be a false alarm. I'm not ready. I can't do this, not now. I need more ti- _

_. _

"Hey, Hutch." Starsky spoke as he made a left turn, disrupting my thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Whatever happens today, I got your back. No matter what we find. If things are too much, I can cover for you." Starsky glanced over at me, checking to make sure I had heard him. I had. I knew he meant what he said.

"Thanks, Starsk." I felt some of my stress melt away. _Maybe I can do this. It's going to be __rough__, but I'll survive. I have Starsky. _I felt somewhat better. I was still nervous, but at least I wasn't completely freaking out anymore.

When we arrived on the scene, everyone else was already there and going over the plan. I tried to pay attention to the strategy and pretend I wasn't scared to death of what might happen.

"Hutchinson, Starsky, I want one of you to stay outside. I need a man watching the back. I expect someone will try to run. The other will go in with me and Davis," The lead detective told us. Starsky spoke up before I had the chance.

"Do you care who goes where?" Starsky asked. I knew where he was going with this.

"No, you and Hutchinson can decide amongst yourselves. Everybody grab what you need. We move in five minutes!"

Once we were out of earshot, I decided to make my opinion known.

"I don't like it, Starsky."

"Neither do I. I don't think partners should ever be split up on these things."

"That's not what I meant." Starsky grabbed my forearm, turning me so he could look me in the eye.

"You stay outside, Hutch. I'll go in," he suggested. I considered the offer for a minute and took a deep breath.

"No. I'll go in. You stay." I wasn't sure why I'd said it as the words left my mouth.

"Umm...are you sure? I don't know if that's the best idea, buddy." He looked worried.

"Yeah. I need to do this. Face this thing head on." I wasn't as confident as I sounded. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe it was another horrible idea I would regret later. _You'll never know if you don't at least try. __Come on, Ken.__ What's the worst that could-don't ask yourself that!_

"Okay...I'm not quite digging it though. A week ain't that much time..." he responded, obviously concerned.

"I have to know that I can beat it, Starsk." He chewed on his bottom lip, considering my idea for what seemed like an eternity. _Am I pushing myself too hard? On the way over here I was dreading it, now I wanna jump in headfirst? __Am I making a mistake?_

"Alright, Hutch. You go. But if things get bad, promise you'll take cover and radio me? And I don't just mean if the bad guys start shooting."

* * *

_Why am I doing this? _I asked myself as we entered the warehouse, guns drawn. I was behind everyone else. I wanted to think it was just coincidence, but in reality it was because I was terrified. Starsky would appreciate my hanging back if nothing else. He was probably outside worrying about me. I wished he'd told me no. _Get your head on straight, Hutchinson. Focus! _I ordered myself.

I heard someone announce we were police and it took about two seconds for the shooting to start. I took cover behind a barrel and tried to determine where the fire was coming from. My vision was blocked by tall stacks of boxes and crates. I heard one of our guys return fire, followed by what sounded like someone crying out and falling on something.

"Got one!" I heard Davis call out. "One, maybe two more." I risked peeking out to see if I could get closer, but all the other cover was taken.

"I got eyes on the other," someone answered back. I heard more shooting, shouting and moving around. Then, a few seconds of silence. It was like I was watching a movie, watching it unfold, but not participating. Not that I wanted to. My hands were shaking so bad that even if I did have a clear view and a shot, I couldn't have hit anything. I waited behind my barrel until I heard my name.

"Where's Hutchinson?" Davis asked. I crawled out from behind my barrel and stood up. Everyone else had already emerged from their spots and were now scattered about the large room, occupied with various activities.

"Here! Sorry, couldn't really see from where I was," I answered.

"I guess we were a bit overstaffed for once, huh Hutchinson?" Davis joked. I forced a smile and walked further into the room. There was heroin all right. The packaged syringes that laid on a table taunted me. The heroin itself was in an open crate not more than five feet away. I felt a massive lump in my throat.

"These guys sure weren't expecting company," someone remarked. I barely heard him. I was focused on the H. I could feel myself starting to lose it. _I can't do __it! I can't!__ Starsky was right! Too soon! What was I thinking?__ I have to-_

That's when I heard it. Gunshots. They were coming from the back of the building. From where Starsky was. My heart dropped as I broke into a sprint towards the back door. I heard someone shouting at me to stop, but I kept running. I had to know he was all right. Nothing else mattered.

"Starsky!" I screamed as I burst out the back door. I drew my weapon and frantically scanned the area. There was blood on the pavement. My lungs gave out. _No! Please don't let thi-_

"Hey Hutch! You gonna help me book this turkey or just stand there?" Starsky's voice called out from my right. Then, I saw him. He was leading the cuffed and bleeding shooter towards me. My eyes scanned Starsky's body, checking for any signs of injury. He was okay. I could breathe again. _He's good. It's al__l __right. It's over. _I told myself as a wave of relief crashed over me. He handed his prisoner off to a uniform and steered me away from the door. I pulled him in for a quick hug. I felt his arms around me and thanked God I still could. He pulled away and made eye contact.

"How'd it go in there, buddy?" he asked, checking me over, the concern in his eyes evident.

"I d-didn't have to do much, I was in the back," I explained as I tried to compose myself. I wouldn't make a scene, not here.

"Starsky? You good? Where's Hutchinson?" I heard the lead detective ask from inside. Starsky flashed me a half smile before I followed him back into the warehouse.

Back in the car, we rode in silence for a while. Paperwork awaited us at the station. I sighed as I watched the other traffic.

"Starsky."

"Hm?"

"You were right."

"About?"

"It was too soon. Am I insane? Why did I think I could handle it? I almost lost it!" I spat, angry with myself for failing once again.

"Almost."

"What!?" I was confused.

"Hutch, you said almost. You almost lost it. Why almost?" I thought for a minute before answering him.

"I guess I got distracted. I thought you were in danger and I just...stopped."

"Maybe I should narrowly escape bodily harm on every case so I can distract you," Starsky joked. I glared at him. I didn't find it funny. "Sorry, bad joke," he mumbled as he pulled into our parking space at the station.

"It still bugs me that it happened at all. My freaking out, I mean." I stared down at my fingers. I could feel his eyes on me.

"Hutch, you can't pretend the stuff with Forest didn't happen or that it doesn't matter. You don't have to. Of course you'd panic, anyone would. It's gonna take time buddy, but it's all right. I got ya' in the meantime."

"Just like always," I mumbled. I didn't deserve him.

"Me and thee. We're in this together, Blintz!"

* * *

It had now been four months and three weeks since I was kidnapped. I was doing better these days. I was eating breakfast again and trying to find a new routine. I was still running, but now I took time to enjoy it rather than guilt tripping myself for mile after mile. I even went out to a movie with Starsky one evening. He still hadn't convinced me to go on that double date or out for drinks, but I knew I'd get there eventually. My focus seemed to slowly be improving as well. I didn't get lost in my own head as frequently either. As Starsky had said, it would take time for things to be better. I had given up the notion that I could be back to normal. Normal being before the heroin. I would always carry that experience with me. I couldn't pretend like it hadn't changed things, but I could control how I viewed it. I could choose to move forward. I had to keep telling myself it was alright to be a wreck. That it was okay to let it affect me. I would remind myself before every drug bust, every arrest, and every day on the job. It helped some.

This particular morning I had woken up early and walked to the beach. A thick fog had rolled in overnight and the sun was trying desperately to break through. I saw a group of seagulls huddled beneath a piece of driftwood. I smiled at them and looked out over the water. It was easier to think here on the deserted beach. I loved the ocean. It was always changing, never still and always different each time I saw it. It could be peaceful and still or raging and stormy. But despite its restlessness, the tides remained constant and steady. _Kinda like my life, _I mused as I breathed in the cold, salty, morning air. I had weathered a few storms in my life. I was fighting one even now, with this whole heroin thing and everything else it had brought to the surface. But I knew which way to swim now. I knew I wanted to get better. I also knew I wasn't alone anymore. I had Starsky. He was my tide, constantly there for me no matter what. Steady when I couldn't be. I was working on accepting that I could let him. On accepting that I didn't have to find a fix right away. It would come in time, and with help from my best friend.

As I walked back up the beach, I spotted a pay phone. I dug in my jacket pocket searching for a dime. I found one and dialed the familiar number. I huddled against the wind as I listened to it ring. He finally picked up after the fifth ring.

"David Starsky. What do ya' want?" I smiled. He sounded like he was still half asleep. He probably wasn't even out of bed yet.

"It's Hutch...I wanted to ask if your offer still stands. The one for the double date? It's Saturday after all and I'm not doing anything tonight." There was silence on the other end. I swear I could hear him smile through the phone.

"Sure, Hutch. I'll tell her to wear plaid!"

"Please do!" I laughed. He mumbled something I couldn't make out and hung up. I grinned as I ran down the beach towards home.


End file.
